


dream about that casual touch

by mediocretrombone



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocretrombone/pseuds/mediocretrombone
Summary: El could swear she’s gotten brighter, her hair redder and her eyes bluer. El can’t look away from her.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	dream about that casual touch

**Author's Note:**

> written for the femslashficlets janelle monae lyrics prompt table, #8 - 'am I a sinner with my skirt on the ground?' title from feelings by hayley kiyoko. 
> 
> set in nebulous time period after s3 but before they (inevitably) get hopper back.

The Byers are back in Hawkins for the summer and El is back with Max; back in her room, on her bed, like no time has passed at all. 

Max has grown taller and El could swear she’s gotten brighter, her hair redder and her eyes bluer. El can’t look away from her. 

Hawkins has been hit with a heatwave and there’s a sticky sort of lethargy in the air, heavy like a blanket over the town. El has her hair tied with one of Max’s hair ties, but it doesn’t stop her damp hair from sticking to her neck. Max’s covers are thrown haphazardly off the bed, windows thrown open. All they’ve done for the past few days is lounge about. El kind of likes it— life is so often full of action and noise, that to be lazy in the quiet of a sun-sleepy Hawkins, the only sound the buzz of bugs, is a strange sort of pleasure. 

Lying beside Max on her bed, their bare legs pressed together as they flip through comics and magazines with no real intent or interest, is also a strange sort of pleasure. It’s so hot that they’ve disposed of pretty much everything, only in their vests and underwear. El would’ve slept like this anyway— she doesn’t have the energy to cycle all the way back home to pick up extra clothes that in this heat she wouldn’t wear anyway— but looking at her skirt tossed on the floor and then back to where her bare leg is pressed against Max’s, she feels a flush of embarrassment that she can’t explain. Like perhaps she should put her skirt back on, put some space between her and Max.

But when she tries shifting off the bed, Max lets out a quizzical noise. 

“Where are you doing?” she asks, looking drowsily up from her comic. On the open page, the Dark Phoenix looks menacing and beautiful. El giggles a little; Max looks confused, then looks down at the page and snorts. They always find an odd kind of amusement in characters who are like El, Carrie and Matilda and Jean Grey.

“Getting my skirt.” 

“Why?” she says, incredulous. 

El hopes the pink of her face can be blamed on the heat. She fidgets, staring at the floor instead of Max, and shrugs. It’s not as though she can say, _ I like touching you too much and it scares me. It scares me to think it might scare you. _

A few months ago, El cut her hair short, the way it had been when she was living with Hopper, so long ago. He had tried to comb her tangled curls and always tried his best to be gentle. She likes slicking it back too, the way Kali had shown her. 

Some guy at school had called her something she didn’t understand, but she recognised his tone from the way other kids talk to Will. Not so much anymore, because they always end up inexplicably tripping up and falling onto their face afterwards, but she still remembers. She didn’t say or do anything, just stood there, her head tilted, wondering how it should make her feel. 

It was Will who reacted, had punched the boy and broke his hand. He made him bleed though. That’s what El kept repeating at the hospital, as Will sat there looking embarrassed. 

El’s not ashamed. Being ashamed this thing that makes her different would mean being ashamed of Will and what makes him different. And besides, El doesn’t live in a world where cutting her hair short and blushing when pretty girls are nice to her (though El is still kind of confused about how the two are related) can be a main concern of hers. It’s not even in her top twenty main concerns. This world has so many monsters in it, but she’s not one of them.

But even so, Max is her best friend. And El doesn’t know if Max would be ashamed of her, or disgusted, or _ scared_. 

When El looks back though, Max is staring at her with electric blue eyes, concentrating on El as if she’s a particularly difficult puzzle. 

“She’s pretty, huh?” Max says, apropos of nothing, and El startles a bit. 

“What?!”

“Jean Grey,” she clarifies softly. She sits up a little, shifts closer to El. El stays perfectly still. 

“She looks like you,” El replies agreeably, then flinches. _ Stupid. _But Max just smiles, laughs a little as a blush creeps up her face. She looks surprised, maybe, like she didn’t expect that answer. 

“You think I’m pretty?” she asks, her tone teasing and light, but her eyes are intense and unwavering. El feels like a deer in headlights. She really wishes Max hadn’t asked her that; she feels like the answer is sort of obvious, but it still sticks in her throat. All she can managed is a flustered, strangled noise. 

Max’s face softens and now she’s right in front of El. She’s not teasing anymore, her face kind and open. She places a gentle, tentative hand on El’s. 

“I think you’re pretty too,” Max says, slow and quiet like El’s an easily startled animal. She’s not, but she kind of feels like one, twitchy and likely to bolt at any hint of danger. She’s brave in the face of many, many things much more dangerous than a pretty girl and yet. Yet here she is. Wide-eyed and breathless. “And a lot cooler than Jean Grey.” 

El can’t help but giggle a bit. The tension in the room loosens a little and El feels like she can breathe again. Max’s gaze is fond and El finds herself holding it as Max moves closer still. This time, El moves with her. 

The kiss is sweet and soft when it comes. Nothing to be afraid of, but El feels brave nonetheless. Their knees bump as they press closer to each other and instead of flinching away, El tangles their bare legs together. 


End file.
